Page 56 of Death Will Follow

“Afraid I can’t help you there,” the youth said, shrugging. “Finders keepers and all that.”

The thieves drew back then, bumping up against a stack of wooden crates, and Nova knew Callan had made himself known, stepping into the ring of light behind her.

The shortest of the three tittered nervously before snapping his head to the ringleader. “Just give them their things,” he whispered, his words clearly audible in the tight space.

“No,” the tall one hissed. “Must be valuable if they want them so badly.”

The knife flew from Nova’s hand before she even realized she’d drawn it, embedding itself in one of the crates a hairsbreadth away from the stubborn one’s head.

“Are you prepared to die for what’s in that saddlebag? Because I am.” A chill rippled along her skin at the icy certainty in the statement. The sharp edge to the voice not quite her own.

Nova.

Callan’s cautionary tone prodded at the edge of her awareness, but she ignored it, refusing to cede any ground.

Rather than humbling him, the cocky one’s fear emboldened him, and he snatched up a pitchfork, stepping forward and brandishing the tool like a weaponin front of him to protect the others. The fool clearly had no idea who he had stolen from. Nova pulled her dagger from the sheath at her thigh and took a step toward the males who stood huddled closer together.

“What’s all this then?” a female voice asked, the tone far too bright for the circumstances.

“Lady Riven.” The thieves bowed their heads at once.

Nova tossed her head, as if she’d been pulled from a trance. Lowering her hand to her side, she hid the blade from view, unsettled by the realization that she might have used it had she not been interrupted.

“Just Riven,” the Noble clarified, coming to stand at Nova’s side. “Now, what seems to be the trouble here?”

“We woke to find our belongings had been taken, so we came to collect them.” Nova kept her steely gaze trained on the thieves, her tone measured as she struggled to keep her fury at bay.

Riven loosed a huff of feigned surprise. “Is that so?”

“The tracks led us here,” Callan confirmed.

“Well, that is strange.” Riven took a step forward then halted, her hand rising to her chin. “Say, you lot look familiar. You’re Pete’s sons, are you not?”

“Y-yes, my Lady,” the short one stammered before the bold one delivered a smack to the back of his head.

Riven turned to face Nova. “These are simple farm lads—not thieves.” She turned back to the males. “I’m sure this was merely a prank. You saw foreigners traveling and thought you’d have a bit of fun?”

“That’s it!” the third lad said, finally finding his voice. “It was only a bit of fun.”

Riven clapped her hands together, the sharp sound causing the thieves to flinch.

“Then this was all a big misunderstanding,” she concluded. “Lovely. How about you return their things.”

The short one broke away from his brothers, reaching between two crates and hauling out the missing saddlebags. His head bowed sheepishly, he lugged them to the entryway and passed them into Callan’s ready arms.

“Good lad,” Callan murmured as the youth backed away again, his eyes downcast.

“I suppose that’s that,” Riven said, turning to leave. “Oh, and fellas: Don’t mention to anyone you saw us, and I won’t tell Lore what happened to all those crates of ale that went missing from the wagon behind The Wilted Bloom. Understood?”

“Yes, Lady Riven.”

Nova swiftly sheathed her dagger, then charged across the dimly lit space. The trio of fox shifters scattered as she neared. She paid them no mind and simply wrenched her throwing knife free from the crate before she, too, exited the den.

Nova emerged from the thicket to find Bryn standing watch over all of the horses and Riven mounting up beside her.

“What happened?” Bryn asked.

“A misunderstanding,” Nova replied, flexing her hand inside her glove and avoiding Callan’s eye as he fastened their saddlebags and readied the horses to depart.